Revelations Part V: What is Family?

“Though one may be overpowered,
two can defend themselves.
A cord of three strands is not quickly broken.” Ecclesiastes 4:12, NIV

January 6, 2016: After breakfast at McDonald’s, I noticed something wrong with my rental car. The license plate was missing. I notified Miranda, and then the police to report it stolen. They told me to contact the car rental place to get a new rental. The first location that I drove to did not have an extra car to exchange. I began driving to another and called while on the way. They also had no extra cars. I changed direction toward another. The third location had a car that I could use. I signed on the line and talked to the clerks at the desk, explaining why I was in town, while another checked the car. He returned and said, “Mystery solved! Your plate wasn’t stolen! That little piece of paper in the back window is a temporary plate.” It was smaller than a dollar bill. I was embarrassed and apologized for the hassle. They were gracious to me and told me I could choose to keep my first car or use the new one. I chose the new one because the paperwork was already signed and drove back to Walmart to meet the others.

That morning, the hospital had informed Val that they had given Dad’s wallet with $400 in it to Freddie. Our first stop was going to be the apartment to notify the office of Dad’s passing and confront Freddie. It was close to lunch time. Val insisted on buying him lunch to soften him up.
Miranda texted, “we are buying him White Castle.”
I responded, “White Castle? Are you trying to kill him?” Apparently Freddie really liked White Castle and had requested it.

Cory and Val left Miranda and me at the office to tell them about Dad and they continued to the apartment. After we spoke to the office staff, we waited on a couch for them to confirm. Miranda whispered, “I have to tell you something.”
“What?”
She said, “I don’t want to say it.”
I said, “You have to! You brought it up!”
After more coaxing, she confessed, “I put my gum in Freddie’s burger.”
She remembers my response as “a full out tear-crying laughter.” “You’re the best! Thank you so much for that!” I do not condone revenge, but this felt like a tiny bit of justice in a hopelessly unjust situation.
She said, “Don’t tell Cory & Val! I’m so bad! I never do things like this!”
This was one of the highlights of the week.

Meanwhile, Cory & Val were delivering said special burger to Freddie and asking him about the rest of the money. He said that it was gone. “I can pay you back, though.”
Val said, “I tell you what, Freddie, why don’t you give us your money and you can pay yourself back.”
“You mean you want all of it?” he replied. He opened his wallet and handed them another $43.00. We never received the rest.

After Cory & Val picked us up at the office and told us what happened, I said, “You know those drinks everyone had in Roger’s memory Monday night? Yeah, they were on Roger.” We picked up my car and met at a casino. One of the ticket stubs for a bet had not been cashed in and we wanted to see if it was worth anything. It was not. Cory decided to blow off some steam at a game while we three girls went into a casino restaurant for dinner. We talked about what would happen when we got home. Maybe Cory could come back for Dad’s ashes. I would write the obituary. Miranda and I would plan the memorial. We talked about family and what it meant. I believe that relatives are connected by blood or marriage. Family is connected by choice and love. As children, our lives had been separate due to circumstances beyond our control. We now had an opportunity to change that if we wanted to. We decided that we wanted to. We arrived in Vegas as relatives. We chose to leave as family.

That evening I wrote to God in my prayer journal, “I am curious to see what You do with all of this.”

This is a selfie I sent Miranda from McDonald’s before I noticed that my license plate was “stolen.”

While driving to different car rental businesses, I was constantly distracted by the Vegas landscape.

Revelations Part IV: Friend Like No Other

“One who has unreliable friends soon comes to ruin,
but there is a friend who sticks closer than a brother.” Proverbs 18:24, NIV

January 5, 2016: Our first stop was the motel where Dad had lived during the last days of his life and worked for a short time. We met his friend Mel, a clerk at the motel. He wore a jogging suit and sneakers. He reminded me of Reuben from the movie Ocean’s 11. He portrayed himself as one of Dad’s best friends and told us that he had gotten Dad a room at the motel when he could no longer handle the stairs at his apartment. He gave us the keys to Dad’s truck and when we stepped back outside, it was decided that I would drive the truck. Miranda offered to ride with me. The radio was on, and I asked her if it was okay. She said, “Yeah, I like to sing really loud when I’m stressed.” I agreed, so we turned up the volume and sang out our tension.

And I said, “What about Breakfast at Tiffany’s?”
She said, “I think I remember the film
And as I recall, I think we both kinda liked it”
And I said, “Well, that’s the one thing we’ve got

Driving my dead dad’s truck through the streets of Las Vegas: One thing I never imagined I would do.

We drove to a nearby Walmart and began going through the truck. I did not know my dad’s general habits, but Val said that this was where he kept records: in his truck. Looking through the glove compartment, behind the seats, and above the visors, we found bank statements, credit card statements, the purchase agreement for the truck, and ticket stubs for bets that he had made. Dad liked to gamble. A lot.

It felt like we are in a Lifetime movie. Four Michiganders taking on the dark streets of Vegas in a rented Mitsubishi, trying to sort out the life of our estranged father. I actually looked around the parking lot a couple of times, half expecting to see a camera over my shoulder.

Next we drove to Affordable Cremation & Burial Service. They told Val the price that they had quoted her the week before was no longer valid because it was given in 2015 and this was 2016, so they would not honor it. We had to pay $100 more. The director handed us the information that would be on Dad’s official cremation record and Las Vegas obituary to check the accuracy. Val handed it to Cory who handed it to Miranda who handed it to me, and I thought, “I this is something I can do!” I awoke my inner grammar Nazi. I noticed that they had misspelled Val’s first name. And Miranda’s last name. And the word “cremation.” Apparently Affordable Cremation & Burial Service could not afford to use spell-check. Cremation arrangements were made, documents were signed, and they agreed to notify us when the cremation was completed. One of us would then travel back to Vegas for Dad’s remains.

We drove to Dad’s apartment where Freddie was going to meet us. He was running late but gave us permission to go in and get Dad’s belongings. He told us that they were boxed up in the living room. We found a two boxes of Dad’s possessions on the couch and the contents of his wallet in a rubber band on a night stand. Dad rented the apartment and allowed Freddie to live there because he had no other place to live. It did not make sense that all of Dad’s belongings fit into two boxes. His wallet was even missing. Cory said, “Where’s the cash money? Dad always carried cash. Where is it?” We all knew this was true.

Freddie arrived few minutes later. He was a friendly person and seemed happy to see us. “Did you find everything? Good!”

Cory said, “Where is Dad’s cash? He always carried cash in his wallet. Where is it?”

Freddie absently patted his front pocket, paused, then gestured questioningly, “Oh, did YOU need that?”

“Yes, Freddie. Yes, we did need that. We need it to pay for his cremation,” Val responded. Freddie slowly pulled out his wallet and handed Val $220, leaving a few dollars for himself.

We piled back into Val’s rental and drove to a parking lot where Val called the hospital. She left a message with the person who was responsible for releasing Dad’s possessions to Freddie. We were suspicious about how much of his money Freddie had actually received. After hanging up, she saw that Mel had left a message and called him back. He did not know that she put him on speaker phone so we could all hear what was said. “Val, Roger said that his son hurt him really bad, stole from him or something. I just wanted you to know. Be careful who you trust.” If anything had happened, it would have been 30 years ago. Mel also did not specify which son, and Dad had two. Cory was hurt that Mel implied that he might have done this. “I don’t know what he’s talking about! I never did anything like that!”

My anger surfaced again and I said, probably a little too loudly, “Cory don’t pay any attention to him. He shut all of us out because he didn’t want to get hurt. He hurt all of us to protect himself. Even now, he’s hurting you from the grave. Don’t let him do it.”

They drove me back to my rental car and we split up for the evening. I had not spent so much time with those siblings since I was 6 or 7 years old, and in all of the craziness, I saw a glimmer of potential. In my journal, I wrote, “Good may come from this. If we can continue the relationships that we have started here, it could be good.”

Photo: My hosts’ sweet pup, Pepper. He was the perfect comforter.

Revelations Part I: Ceiling Collapses

“A father to the fatherless, a defender of widows, is God in his holy dwelling.” Psalm 68:5

“There are five stages of grief. When you reached this one, you seemed to have hit a ceiling. Anger. You need to allow yourself to be angry at your dad.” The counselor was trying to help me work through my feelings toward my father. He had shut me out… again. I had not seen or spoken to him for a few years, and I was trying to accept that I probably never would this side of Heaven. But I did not want to be angry. Anger hurt people. I would try to find my way over that ceiling without anger.

December 31, 2015: About 8 more years had passed with no word from my father. The phone on my desk rang at 4:00 p.m. “Brandi, this is Donnie. Your mom told me to call you at work.” Donnie was a friend of both of my biological parents. “I received a call from your dad’s roommate in Vegas. Your dad is on life-support and the hospital is looking for someone to sign a DNR.”

After we hung up, I called my younger sister Miranda. She told me that they had learned about Dad from his roommate, Freddie. Another sister, Val, was his Power of Attorney and was in the process of faxing proof and the DNR. Miranda, Val, and our brother Cory planned to fly to Vegas on Monday, January 4, to get his affairs in order. I knew that I needed to go. There was a chance that we might see him before he passed.

Before we hung up, Miranda said, “Brandi, the hospital didn’t even know he has kids.” Those words was like a punch to the gut. I was his first child. My parents divorced when I was an infant. Shortly after, Dad remarried a woman who had three children from a previous marriage. She and Dad had two more: Miranda and Glen. All five were raised as Dad’s children. Six kids. Six kids who didn’t exist. My ceiling caved in. I was angry. So angry.

I called my husband, David. He suggested trying to find a round-trip ticket for Friday. Maybe I could fly there, see Dad, and fly back within 24 hours. I could be home in time for my oldest son’s wedding on Saturday. But we planned to decorate the reception hall and chapel on Friday. “I’m not leaving the day before my son’s wedding. The living matter,” I spat into the phone.

We traditionally spent New Year’s Eve with a couple of friends who lived about 30 minutes away. When I got home, David could see that I was upset. He suggested that we cancel, but I couldn’t just sit at home. I refused. While my husband drove us there, my anger boiled over. I slapped the dashboard and yelled, “D*** him! He did this on purpose! He made sure none of us could be there for him!” He didn’t tell anyone who loved him that he had lung cancer. He didn’t tell the hospital that he had children. It felt like the most extreme act of abandonment.

Throughout the evening, I received updates from Miranda. The papers were faxed and Hospice was involved. His lungs were 85% saturated, but he was resting comfortably.

I felt like something was broken inside me.

January 1, 2016: I awoke in the morning feeling like a zombie. I drove to the mall with my mother to pick up a few things for the wedding, then helped my future daughter-in-law and her parents decorate the reception hall. We finished with a couple of hours to spare before decorating the chapel. I tried to take a nap, but couldn’t sleep. My mind was numb.

After decorating the chapel that evening, David and I went to McDonald’s to talk. I told him, “I’m not okay. I’m not okay. I can’t even cry. I’m not okay.” He put his arm around me and encouraged me to let it out, but I couldn’t. A dam of anger and pain held back the tears.

A&K Reception

“Rain and rainbows always come together. Focusing on my rainbow today.” Reception hall photo and social media post 1/1/2016